


B - Bursting Balloons

by Bdoyle1807



Series: Parenting through the Alphabet [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Family Universe, Family Bonding, Family Humor, Family feelings, Fluff and Humor, Gen, adopted kids, kid problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdoyle1807/pseuds/Bdoyle1807
Summary: The family works to clean their apartment before moving to BethesdaThe kids find a box of balloons, Fitz has a grand idea that Skye wants to join





	B - Bursting Balloons

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - very tiny reference to corporal punishment

B – Bursting Balloons

 

“I don’t think I can fit any more in the car, Mel.  There’s barely room to drive.”  Phil smirked as he brushed his hands together.  “I can take them to the new place.  Mack will help me unload.  You and kids can finish up here and I’ll be back for you,” he glanced at his watch, “by five…six at the latest.” 

 

Melinda pushed up her sleeves and rolled her eyes.  “You did this on purpose.”  Her statement was flat, emotionless as both turned toward the loud thump and shrill laughter coming from the boys’ former bedroom.

 

“Not really,” Phil defended himself as his wife turned and moved toward the sounds of their children and whatever mischief they were into now.  “You were the one who wanted to get this done in as few trips as possible.  Neither of us saw that flat tire on your SUV and whose fault is it there’s no spare?”  He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as she turned and glared at him.  “We can stop at the Italian’s for pizza on the way home.” 

 

He thought about that for a moment as she disappeared down the hall.  He could hear her calling the kids to order, doling out assignments and chiding them for whatever mess they’d created.  Smiling he patted his pockets for his keys then noticed them on the top step leading to the foyer.  He picked them up and opened the front door.  Yes, he was off to their _home_ , their new home where they had room to breathe and play and live together, not on top of each other like they had been doing in this small apartment.

 

Melinda stepped into the now almost empty bedroom Fitz and Trip had been sharing the last few months.  She let out an exasperated breath and almost smiled watching her brood laugh at Trip’s attempts at gymnastics.  The loud thump was his failed cartwheel that ended with him tangled in his own gangly arms and legs.  She shook her head and put her hands on her hips.  “Alright, people lets get back to business.  I thought you were going to have all this packed and sealed.”

 

Trip sat back and rubbed the back of his head, squinting up at the woman standing in the doorway.  Skye scampered over to her mother reaching to be picked up, which Melinda obliged.  Jemma grabbed a few items closest to her and pushed them into a box in front of the small closet.  Fitz continued rolling on the floor in an effort to imitate his older brother’s crazy moves.

 

“Sorry,” the young boy smiled.  “Guess we just needed a break.”

 

“Yeah,” Fitz laughed, “a break an arm…break a leg…break…” he demonstrated doing a Quasimodo walk around Trip.

 

“Not funny, Fitz,” Melinda warned in a voice that held no room for humor.  “Come on guys, I’d like to get this done today, tomorrow at the latest.”  She picked up a block of sorts with several wires protruding from every side.  Fitz quickly took it from her and tossed it in the box next to the bed frame.  “Really, Fitz,” she sighed, “what do you have in that box?”  Melinda hiked Skye on to her opposite hip and reached for the box on the bottom bunk of the mattress-less bunk.  The boy moved to intercept his mother, slapping his hand on the open flap.

 

“Them is hims tinks-a-jinks.”  Skye pointed to the box and shook her head with a little pout.  “Him no let me look eeder.”

 

Melinda stifled a laugh as she set her youngest on the floor and pulled her vibrating phone from her pocket.  She held up a hand for the kids to quiet down and turned leaving the room in mid-conversation.

 

Trip still sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, staring at the door where Melinda had just exited.  He was blindsided by a body slam from Fitz who knocked him sideways to the floor in a tangle of arms, legs, and good natured rough-housing.  Skye joined the fray bouncing on her biggest brother’s stomach twice before he caught her under the arms and lifted her above him and Fitz in an awkward human bench press.  Jemma frowned and considered scolding the lot of them, but laughed instead and continued pulling paraphernalia from the closet.

 

“Fitz…” the girl called to her brother as she struggled to close the full box on the floor.  “Fitz!”  She looked over her shoulder at her younger siblings who tried miserably to pin her older one to the floor.  The laughter was contagious, but even so Jemma knew mom wanted this work done.  “FITZ!” She shouted and the three froze in place staring at her.   Lowering her voice she continued, “This box is full, I need another.”

 

Fitz stood and pulled his twisted T-shirt into place covering his skinny ribs.  “And ya don’t know where they are?”  He accused.

 

“Everyone is supposed to be helping.” The little girl stood with her hands on her hips imitating her mother’s recent stance.  “That means you as well.  Now go out to the kitchen and bring back another box.” 

 

“And who put you in charge of the whole lot then?” Fitz shot back.

 

Trip let out a spluttery laugh and butted the younger boy in the backside with the toe of his shoe as he fielded off an attacking Skye.  “Just get the box, Fitz.”

 

The smaller boy threw his arms up in the air, dropped them quickly and shook his head as he stomped out of the room.  Jemma watched for a moment then shook her head as well.  She squinted up at a box tucked into the farthest corner of the top shelf.  “You’ll need to help, Trip.  I can not reach that last carton.”  She pointed up toward it.

 

Trip ‘fake wrestled’ himself free of his baby sister, jumping to his feet and tossing her over his shoulder.  Skye dangled over his back in a fit of giggles.  The boy held fast to her small feet while reaching with the opposite arm to snag the item for Jemma.  “Feels empty,” he announced, handing it to her.

 

Jemma jiggled the medium sized box close to her ear.  Something rattled inside. Both children turned to Melinda as she stepped back into the room.

 

“Okay team, change of plans.”  Melinda began looking concerned.  “Drop what you’re doing.  We’ve got to get to the office.  Bobbi’s on her way.”  She clapped her hands encouraging them to hurry.  “Where is Fitz?”  Melinda scanned the room.  “Skye, where is your shoe?”  She moved into the room picking up items that might be hiding a small sneaker.

 

Skye slid to the floor from Trip’s arms and looked at her shoeless foot.  She shrugged her shoulders and held it out for closer examination.  “I no know.  It falldid offa my foots.”

 

Fitz skidded around the corner with a box over his head, his arms held out in front of his chest with his fingers curled into little claw-like pinchers.  “Grrrrr,” he growled as he stomped into the room.

 

Melinda lifted the carton and turned up one side of her mouth.  “Have you seen your sister’s shoe?”

The boy jumped up trying to retrieve the box from her hold.

 

“Which one?  Was it in the kitchen?”  He asked between swiping bounces.

 

“Right and no,” Trip groaned as he dropped down to peer under the bed frame.

 

Fitz stopped bouncing and looked at Trip with a glare.  “Not which _shoe_ , nutter, which _sister_?”

 

Melinda pushed her hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes.  “We don’t have time for this, guys.  I’ve got a wigged out client at the office, someone screwed up an entire detail and the schedule is nowhere to be found.  Bobbi should be here in less than five.  We have to move.”  She squatted down and took Skye by the shoulders.  “Baby do you know where you lost your shoe?”

 

Skye giggled at her stocking foot.  “It no losted, mama.  It falldid off.  I putted it inna box.”

 

Melinda’s head dropped and she blew out a breath over her lips.  “Okay, sweetie, what box?  Can you show mama?”  Skye was already shaking her head.

 

“Daddy taked all the baloo bosses, mama.  I is baloo.”  She pointed proudly to herself.

 

Melinda’s shoulders fell in defeat.  Phil had assigned everyone a color to help organize the boxes and get them to the right rooms in the new place.  Skye was indeed blue…blue like the sky, Phil had told her handing her a bright blue marker.  She’d colored on every box he gave until the marker went dry.  She also colored her arms, legs, chest and face.  “ _Permanent_ marker?  Really Phil, you gave a _permanent_ marker to our four-year-old?”  She’d accused him after an hour long soak did nothing to dim the blue on her Smurf-baby.  It had taken almost a week and an embarrassing explanation to Miss Tripani for all that marker to wear off.

 

Phil and his great ideas…he was on his way to Bethesda with all those boxes…and Skye’s right sneaker.  “Okay, then…” Melinda pursed her lips and took a deep breath.  She rubbed her hands across her thighs before standing.  “I guess you go with one shoe.”

 

“I hop?”  Skye’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs.  Fitz lifted one leg and began demonstrating around the room.  The little girl tried a few times before hurrying to hold on to her brother in order to keep her balance.  They both laughed uncontrollably. 

 

Trip watched for a moment then stepped closer to Melinda.  “I can watch them.”  He suggested timidly.  Melinda looked at him for a moment before starting to shake her head.  “No, really.  I can do it.”  He insisted.  “You can get your work done and we’ll finish packing all this last minute stuff.  It’s almost three and Mr. C said he’d be back by five or six.”

 

“I don’t know, Trip.”  Melinda looked toward her two youngest who continued hopping around the room, falling, rolling and starting all over.  “Maybe, I should just take Skye.”

 

The boy smiled.  “How you gonna get anything done with that little whirlwind breezing around the office?”  They both laughed.  “Besides,” he pointed out, “you haven’t got a car seat.”

 

Trip was right.  She hadn’t even thought about that.  The car seat was in her car…with the flat tire…in the garage in Bethesda.  The extra one was on the floor in the foyer, taken out of Phil’s car to make room for all those damn boxes.  She thought for a moment.  They were safe here in the apartment.  The electricity still worked.  There were snacks and beverages.  She’d be a phone call away and that Mrs. Joyce was right down the hall in case of an emergency.  “Are you sure, Trip?”  Again she glanced at Fitz and Skye who now wriggled under the bed frame after an errant Lego figure.

 

“Sure, Mrs. C, lots of times I help out in the Cradle Roll at church.”  At her confused look he explained.  “It’s where the little kids have Sunday school.”  Melinda nodded her understanding.

 

She thought for a moment.  Without the kids, she could get more done in a shorter amount of time.  With Bobbi’s help she could do it twice as fast.  She could be back before Phil…with a new pair of sneakers for her one shoed toddler.  Melinda let out the breath she was holding.  “Okay,” she rested her hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “But you call me if anything and I mean _ANYTHING_ happens.”

 

Trip smiled and gave her a thumb’s up.  Melinda turned to her young scamps and motioned them closer to her.  “Mama’s got to go to work for a little bit.  Trip’s in charge.  You do as he says.”

 

“He’s gonna be bossin’ us about?”  Fitz was indignant.

 

“Don’t interrupt,” Melinda shot her younger son a glare and pointed a finger in his direction.  “And yes, he is the boss until either I or your father gets back.  Understand?”

 

Jemma smiled and nodded quickly.  Skye reached up for Trip to take her, then kissed his cheek in approval.  Fitz folded his arms over his chest.  He looked up at his brother with one eye closed.  “How can we be sure he’s responsible enough for this position?”

 

“Fitz,” Melinda’s voice held a warning as well as threat.

 

The little boy let out a frustrated sigh and dropped his arms to his side.  “Yes, ma’am, Trip’s the boss.”  Melinda smiled and ruffled his hair before pulling him into a tight hug.  She managed to kiss him twice before he wriggled free and scooted back under the bed frame.

 

Taking Skye into her arms she squeezed her baby tightly and pulled off the shoe still on her left foot.  “It’s easier to walk when your feet are level, little one.”  She pushed the sneaker into her jacket pocket, kissed the little girl on each cheek and set her down.  Skye dropped to her knees and creeped quickly under the bed frame joining her brother.

 

After kissing Jemma on top of the head while the little girl continued to stuff the box Fitz had dropped at her feet and giving an embarrassed Trip a quick squeeze and peck on the cheek, Melinda gave a hesitant ‘see you later’ and made sure her eldest locked the door as she exited.

 

“I thought she’d never leave,” Fitz breathed as he slapped a hand on his forehead and fell back onto the floor bumping his head on the box Trip had fished from the high shelf.  “Ouch!”  He whined, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head as he pulled the box into his lap.  Skye plopped down beside him waiting to see what treasures the container held.  Fitz looked at his little sister and wriggled his eyebrows.  “Now what could be in here, do you think?”  He teased.

 

Skye shook her head and bounced with excitement.  “I no know.  Oping it, Fitz.”  She urged.

 

“We’re supposed to be working, not playing.”  Jemma scolded.

 

Fitz slapped his hand on the box, causing Skye to jump.  “Mom said Trip was in charge, Jemma.  Don’t be such an old washer woman.”  Skye giggled although she had no idea what a washer woman might be.  “May I look, Trip?”  He looked up at his brother with puppy-dog eyes.  “Skye really wants to see what it contains.”  He patted the box as she nodded.

 

Trip thought for a moment and let out a deep breath.  What could it hurt?  The box was light.  If anything it was probably papers or just those packing peanut thingies.  He looked at Jemma who seemed to disagree but felt if he said no they’d be arguing over it for hours.  “Yeah, go ahead.”

 

Fitz didn’t need to be told twice.  He pulled the tape he had already picked loose off the box and flipped open the flaps.  “Now, what’s this?”  He smiled as he stuffed his hand into a pile of deflated balloons in a rainbow of bright colors.  Skye pulled out a purple one and put it to her lips, spitting more than blowing into it.  Fitz made a ‘yuck face’ and pulled away from her.  “Look,” he pulled one out and stretched it so the lettering on it was visible.  “It’s da’s office name and logo.  They must have used them for a celebration.”

 

Jemma stooped over and pulled out a bright pink balloon.  She smiled imagining her parents celebrating their business opening.  “Perhaps a grand celebration for their primary start,” she suggested.

 

Trip took a handful and let them drop one by one back into the box as Skye continued trying to inflate the now wet floppy balloon.  “Must be leftovers,” he shrugged.  “We’ll just put them with the rest of the boxes.”

 

“Bow dis, Fizz,” Skye shook the balloon in front of her brother.

 

“Eee ew, that’s bloody disgusting,”  Fitz groaned scooting away from her.

 

Skye wrinkled up her face and stood with her balloon hand.  “I wass it, Fizz, so it no be skutsting.”  Before anyone could snag her she was out the door on her way to the bathroom.

 

“No, Skye, wait,”  Fitz scrambled after her with the box tucked under his arm. 

 

Trip shook his head and turned to help Jemma with packing the remainder of the items in the room.

 

 

Skye struggled to reach the sink before big-brother Fitz opened the cabinet door below it and showed her how to stand on the shelf to gain access.  She smiled as she was able to reach the spigot and turn on the water.  It rushed out quickly and splashed both causing her to teeter back and almost lose her footing.  Fitz quickly put a hand on her back and pushed her forward.

 

“You don’t have to wash that,” he nodded toward the balloon she was scrubbing between her hands under the running water.  “We’ve got a box full of them.”  Fitz gently moved his foot and bumped the box he had dropped on the floor before helping his little sister.  He turned off the water and helped her down.

 

Skye held tightly to her purple balloon that now had collected a bit of water.  She shook it and listened to the squishy sound the water made.  “Looka Fizz, it a little wadder hodder.”  Before he could stop her she put the end of the balloon in her mouth and sucked out the liquid.  Immediately making a terrible grimace she coughed.  “It yucky, Fizz.”  The little girl stuck out her tongue and wiped it with the hem of her T-shirt.  She turned the deflated object upside down and shook the rest of the water onto the bathroom floor.

 

Fitz watched for a moment, unconcerned with wiping up the spill, then smiled broadly.  “You are not supposed to drink it, Skye, but that gives me a grand idea.”  He patted the box he now held in his arms and moved back to the sink.

 

“You gotz a grandeeia?  What you do, Fizz?”  Skye buzzed as she climbed back on the shelf to watch her brother stretch the opening of a bright red balloon over the faucet and turn on the water.  She tried to clap at the site of the growing balloon, again almost dropping backward to the floor.  Fitz grabbed her waist and pushed her up to sit on the counter as he continued to fill one balloon after the other and place each gently into the bathtub.  Skye was thrilled with the bright squishy balls her brother created.

 

“Hey!”  Trip’s voice carried down the hallway, causing Fitz to jump.  “What are you guys doing?  What’s taking so long?”

 

Fitz lost his grip on the balloon he was filling.  It sputtered around the sink, spurting water everywhere, including the perch where Skye sat.  She slid to the side but the puddle crept under her wetting the back of her flowered pants.

 

Fitz pushed the water off, grabbed his little sister off the counter and moved to the door.  “We…I…I’m helping Skye use the potty…”  Before Skye could react he, clamped his hand over her mouth and motioned for her to be quiet.

 

“Oh, Fitz,” he heard Jemma’s sigh, “I’m coming, let me do that.” 

 

“I’m more than capable.” Fitz called back. 

 

In the boys’ former room Jemma looked up at Trip and smiled.  “Oh if she needs to be cleaned, we’ll have a genuine mess to clean.  He’ll probably vomit all over the bath.”  She put down the items she held and took a step toward the door as the sound of the commode flushing echoed in the empty apartment.

 

“All done!”  Fitz’s voice called up the hallway.  “Just have to wash up.”  He pushed the bathroom door closed with his foot and turned around to face Skye with a finger against his lips.  “Shhhh,” he smiled as he latched the door then stood with his ear close to it, listening for his older siblings to approach.  When he was sure they were not in the hall he took his hand from Skye’s mouth.

 

The little girl stood back and wrinkled her brow at her brother.  “You smished my mout, Fizz.  That not nice and you maked my pantses all wet.  I no peepee my pantses, Fizz.  Mama be mad to me.”

 

“No she won’t, Skye.”  Fitz whispered pushing her backward, away from the door.  “It’s only a little bit of water.  It will dry.”

 

Skye held out both palms to her brother and bounced them up and down.  “My unnerwears is wet, Fizz.  I no like a it.”

The boy took a big breath and let it out in a huff then turned her toward the bright watery baubles in the bathtub.  “Look,” he pointed at the treasure.  “Don’t you want to see my grand idea?  It is a marvelous plan.”  He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently.  He reached into the mass and picked up a small purple ball, carefully placing it in her hands.  Skye smiled and nodded taken in by the fascination with these wonderful orbs.

 

Once again he placed a finger to his lips and tiptoed to the door.  He opened it and stuck his head out.  “Maybe Skye and I could start in mom and da’s room and we can be finished all the more faster?  No sense having the lot of us working in the same space all afternoon.”  He waited for an answer while Skye placed the balloon back into the tub and picked up a bigger blue ball.  She squeezed it just a bit and laughed at its bouncy texture.

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Trip’s voice called back.  “There’s not too much in there.  Just give it a good check…and stay outta trouble.”  He warned.

 

“No trouble, right.”  Fitz called back.  He turned to Skye, placing a hand on her chest.  “You stay here and guard the tub.  I will be right back.”  She nodded once and dropped the blue balloon back into the tub, then reached for a yellow one. 

 

Fitz was back in seconds carrying a large red pail he’d retrieved from the laundry room.  He took the balloon from Skye and set it in the bottom of the bucket, showing her how to carefully load the container.  Once full, he opened the bathroom door and peeked down the hall before grabbing the pail with both hands and struggled to carry it the few feet to his parents’ former bedroom.  Skye followed behind still curious as to what her brother planned to do.

 

The master bedroom was empty.  Unlike the kids rooms all of the furniture had already been moved to the house in Bethesda.  They’d taken the kids mattresses and set up ‘campsites’ inside the new place for them to sleep until the new carpets were laid and Melinda was sure the drying paint would pose no danger to her brood.  The kids loved the idea of bunking together in the large family room on the first floor, although Skye was much happier snuggled between her parents in this strange new place. 

 

Fitz slid the bucket across the hardwood floor stopping at the curtain-less windows on the far side.  He stood and peered down to the street, smiling at the fact that this room faced the front of the building and so many people walked back and forth this time of day.  Skye stood next to him peering down as well and wondering what they might be looking for down there.

 

The boy reached up and unlatched the window then carefully pushed it up just enough to lean out a few inches.  He smiled at his baby sister.  “Watch,” he smiled at her as he reached into the bucket and lifted one of the balloons.  He balanced it on his hand then carefully leaned out the window and let it drop.  Fitz pulled his head in quickly and peer through one of the unopened panes.  The ‘ _missile_ ’ splashed on the sidewalk causing a man in a fine suit to jump back and look up, cursing a few times before shaking off his foot and storming away.

 

Fitz slapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter as Skye shook her head.  “That man no wants hims feets all wet, Fizz.”  She looked back to the walk below as people sidestepped the puddle on the concrete.  Fitz was already arming himself again, this time with one balloon in each hand.  He dropped the first and then the other a second later.  He could tell he’d hit a target by the yelling coming from the street.  He peered through the window at the young man with spiky hair pulling ear buds from his head and glaring up into the sun.  The front of his shirt was definitely wet as he shook his fist and bellowed some expletives the boy was sure his little sister shouldn’t hear.  This time Skye giggled. 

 

“I do?”  She had a balloon in her hand as he nodded and grabbed her middle to help her reach the window.  The balloon dropped from her hand and splashed to the sidewalk without causing any damage.  The little girl frowned then looked to her older brother.  “Again?”  He nodded and the two happily began bombarding the passersby with their colorful water missiles.  Once the bucket was emptied Fitz returned for a reload and when the tub was almost empty he simply filled more of the ammo in the box on the bathroom floor.  Twice Skye squeezed a ball just a bit too hard and ended up drenching herself and the floor but Fitz’s laughter kept her from bursting into tears.

 

 

 

“They are having way too much fun to be doing any sort of work.”  Jemma surmised as she taped the last box closed.  Trip nodded as he added it to the pile near the door of the room. 

 

“Well, at least we got this mess done without the ‘gruesome twosome’ making it more work than it had to be.”  He brushed his hands together and looked at his watch.  “Luckily there was probably nothing in there anyway so they couldn’t get in any trouble.”  He smiled at his sister’s nod.  “Mrs. C should be back soon.  Better get whatever mess they made cleaned up and be ready when she gets here.”

 

“There are some snacks in the cooler, Uncle Phil brought into the kitchen.  We can keep them busy with that for a little while.”  She brushed her hands off on her jeans and followed Trip into the hallway.

 

 

 

“Okay, triple blast,” Fitz smiled as he took two large balloons and Skye held a third.  He pushed her up until she balanced on her belly against the window frame then reached around her with his ‘ammo’.  “On three,” he spoke into her ear, pressing his body against her to keep her from falling.  “One…two…THREE!” 

 

Skye’s balloon was a few seconds off, but the triple threat spun to the ground hitting its target dead on.  The bellow followed by a string of what was probably cursing in a foreign tongue reached the open window before Fitz had the chance to pull his little sister inside.  He wrapped his arms around her tummy and stepped back into the puddle on the floor slipping on the slick surface then landing on his bottom with Skye in his lap.

 

“What the hell?”  Trip growled without thinking as he walked into the room just as the two hit the floor.

 

Jemma stepped around him, ignoring the comment.  “FITZ!”  Her eyes went wide as her younger siblings rolled on the floor in laughter.

 

“What are you doing?”  Trip demanded as he rushed to the window and looked down to see a very familiar figure shaking off the water from the bomb that had dropped on her head.  She peered up with sunglasses askew and a look that meant certain death.  He quickly slammed the window shut and flicked the lock before turning on the two soaking children splashing in the mess on the floor.

 

Trip grabbed Fitz by the arm and yanked him to his feet.  “What were you thinking you little numbskull?”  He shook the boy hard.  “Do you know what you just did?  Who you soaked?  Damn little man, your ass is grass!”

 

“Hey!” Fitz protested ignoring his brother’s scolding.  “You’re hurting me.  Mom said you could tell me what to do.  She didn’t say you could manhandle me.  Let go!”  He tried to pull away, but his brother held on tightly.

 

Jemma struggled to keep her balance on the slippery floor as she pulled Skye to her feet.  “Look at you.  You’re positively soaked.”  She tsked at the younger girl whose footing was a bit sturdier with her soggy stocking feet.

 

“I wet,” Skye smiled.  “My sockasez is dippy.”  Jemma drew a deep breath and pushed her sister down on a dry spot, pulled off her soaking socks with much difficulty and squeezed the water out of them into the now empty bucket.

 

“Damn it, Fitz!” Trip scolded the little boy again.   “You are dead meat, little bro.  Do you know who you just drenched down there?”  He asked a second time.

 

Fitz shrugged his shoulders and grinned.  “Some tourist I suspect.  They’ll have a grand tale to tell when they get back, won’t they then.”  He laughed and tried again to pull free of his brother who now dragged him toward the door leaving wet footprints all the way.  “You should have seen the lad with the skateboard.  He was the best.  Got him right in the kisser when he looked up after a miss.”

 

Skye’s bare feet slapped on the floor as Jemma led her to the bathroom, hoping to find a least one towel that might help dry the little girl whose hair was plastered to her face and dripped everywhere.  There was a large drop of water holding to the tip of her little nose and those on her earlobes resembled small crystal earrings.  “Oh, Skye, we don’t even have extra clothing for you.”  Jemma shook her head woefully.

 

Trip stood in the bathroom staring at the tub.  “You intended to use _ALL_ of these?”  He shook his head at the amount of water balloons still in the basin. 

 

Fitz shrugged.  “We had them.  Why not use them?” 

 

Jemma had pulled the damp hand towel from the rack next to the sink and attempted to dry her sister’s hair.  Skye pushed her hands away.

 

“No, Zemma.   I no like it smells.”  Skye whined, pulling away from her older sister.

 

“There’s towels in my gram’s bathroom.  I’ll get them.”  Trip announced as he pulled a keychain from his pocket.  “You keep both of them here,” he told Jemma.  He let go of Fitz’s arm and pushed him down to sit on the edge of the tub. “And no more balloons!”  He ordered with a finger pointing in the Fitz’s face.  The smaller boy curled his lip then laughed around Trip as he watched Skye attempt to pull off her wet T-shirt.

 

“I wet, Zemma.  I code.”  She spoke from inside the tangled material.

 

 

 

Trip rushed to the door and reached for the knob only to jump out of the way as the it slammed open against the wall.  His eyes went wide as he stepped back and to the side, knocked speechless at the form that stood in the doorway for a second before stepping slowly inside, grabbing the knob and slamming the door closed just as hard.

 

When the tale was told in the future Trip would swear there was steam rising from the drenched form of Melinda May standing before him.  She pulled off her sunglasses and used one hand to flip her wet hair away from her face.  Mascara leaked black streaks down one side of her face and water dripped from her chin in a steady pace. 

 

Trip opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut at the glare he received.  For a moment Melinda simply looked daggers at the boy, daring him to speak, to move, to make some kind of excuse for what had happened.  He wanted to look away, to step…no to run as far as he could, but something kept him rooted to the spot looking back into those glowering eyes.

 

The boy took a breath and swallowed hard.  “Towels…” he squeaked, pointing to the door and holding up the key he still held in his hand.  She nodded.  Well, he thought she did.  It was so slight he might have imagined it, but she did not stop him as he reached for the door.  He froze when her hand landed on his upper arm as he stepped into the hall.  She raised one eyebrow and took a deep breath.  “Bathroom,” he answered the unspoken question then prayed he could be back before she made him and Jemma her only children.

 

 

Jemma had stripped Skye down to her panties which stuck to her wet body exposing everything they were meant to cover.  The smaller girl insisted on removing them much to her older sister’s objection.

 

“I no wan Frip a see my unnerwears,” Skye cried as she attempted to peel the wet garment from her body.  It simply condensed into a rope-like tube, rolled over her little bottom and stuck at the top of her thighs.  She cried harder finding it almost impossible to remove.

 

“Baby, if you take off your panties he will see then your bum,” Jemma reasoned as she slid the weird tube from where it stuck and watched it drop to the floor with a small thud.  Skye shook her head and only cried harder although Jemma’s logic served to give Fitz a fit of laughter sending him backward and over the edge of the tub directly into the remaining water filled balloons. 

 

The balls popped left and right as the boy struggled to right himself, laughing even harder as he failed to gain any success.  Skye’s whining turned to a strange combination of tears and giggles as the water splashed in mini geysers drenching the boy even further.

 

Melinda stepped into the room and drew a sharp breath at the site that met her.  Fitz was strewn on his back with one foot in and one out of the tub.  A few balloons still wobbled around his frame but mostly the colorful remnants of burst rubber stuck to the boy and the sides of the tub.  The rest floated in the water that remained since other rubber shards blocked the drain.  Jemma knelt on the floor attempting to untangle what appeared to be a small swath of pink cotton cloth.

 

“Mama!” Her naked baby squealed as she pushed around her sister and scurried across the slick tile floor.  Melinda caught her before she lost her footing, scooping her into her arms.

 

Skye pushed her still wet hair from her eyes and patted her mother’s clothing.  She looked up at Melinda and touched her hair then the black streaks on her face.  “Mama,” the little girl breathed.  “You all wet.”

 

“Yes_I_am.”  Melinda spoke through her teeth, glaring at the little boy staring up at her from the tub.

 

Skye wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck.  “We haved a grandeeia!  Me an Fizz do a grandeeia, mama.  We didded.”  She continued to nod and smile despite her mother’s scowl.

 

Trip stopped himself before crashing into the woman just inside the door, then held out a pile of towels.  Melinda took one and wrapped it around a shivering Skye.  She passed the baby to Trip and took the remainder of them.  Taking one and placing the others on the counter she wiped her face then squeezed out the drips from her hair.

 

“Jemma, take Skye’s clothes and put them in the dryer.”  Melinda ordered with object efficiency.  “Don’t turn it on until I say.”  The little girl nodded and gathered the clothing from the floor then slipped past Trip who stood in the doorway. 

 

Melinda turned to the boy.  “You take her out there and get her dry.”  She tossed him two more towels.  “Do not, absolutely DO NOT put her down.”

 

“Yes, ma’am…I mean no ma’am…er yes ma’am…”  Trip backed out of the room halting his attempt to answer Melinda as she continued to glare at him.

 

“And close the door,” Trip merely nodded and swallowed deeply.  He cringed in sympathy for the little boy now trapped inside with his incensed mother.

 

“Frip, you no looka my unnerwears,” Skye scolded as he pulled the door closed and turned toward the kitchen.

 

“No way, baby girl, I no looka.  Promise.”  He kissed her cheek and dropped down onto one of the chairs that had yet to be returned to his grandmother’s apartment.

 

 

Melinda crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the boy who had pushed himself as far back into the tub as humanly possible.  He smiled weakly.

 

“Out,” she commanded quietly, which was so much more threatening than shouting.

 

Fitz struggled to roll over and stand before stepping out onto the floor.  His sneakers kept him from slipping on the wet tile.  Melinda let the toilet seat lid drop with a bang then sat on it and motioned for the boy to come closer.  Fitz swallowed hard then took a tentative step toward his mother.

 

“What are you about to do?”  He asked softly as he stopped and stood his ground.  Melinda pointed to the spot directly in front of her without taking her eyes from him.  He took another step but stayed out of her reach.  “You can’t kill me,” he laughed a little at his attempted joke.  “I’m just a wee lad.”  Her glare did not waver as she once again pointed to the same spot.  “It’s just a bit of water.” He explained.  “Just a bit of clean fun,” he tried a pun to no avail.

 

Melinda leaned forward and snagged his wrist pulling him gently to the spot she had determined.  She stared at the little boy who simply blinked back at her.  Fitz watched as she raised her hand and picked the piece of red rubber from his hair then flicked it into the sink.  He raised his eyebrows and gave a tiny smile she did not return.  

 

Giving a slight shake of her head in warning, Melinda grabbed the hem of his soaking shirt and pulled it up and over his head before he could protest.  Lifting one foot and then the other she slipped off his sneakers and tossed all three items across the floor.  With one move she undid his jeans then lowered him to the floor and rolled off his soaking socks.  She grabbed the hems on the legs of his jeans and tugged until they began to pull free and bump off his wet legs.  Those items were also tossed into the wet pile before she put out a hand and helped him to stand.  The soaking white underwear did as much to cover him as his little sister’s had and suddenly Jemma’s logic didn’t seem quite so funny.

 

Fitz folded his hands in front of him and looked down at the floor.  “I suppose you’ll about to smack me, aren’t you?”  He mumbled the question hoping she might not really understand him.

 

“Do you think you deserve to be smacked?”  Melinda spoke for the first time, the anger hidden but still apparent in her voice.

 

“Well, if you’re letting me make the choice,” he smiled as he looked into her eyes and saw the stern look she cast back.  His smile faded as he dropped his gaze again and left the statement unfinished.

 

“You’ve made enough poor choices, young man.  Perhaps I should take this one.”  Again, she spoke softly, making him feel even worse.  “What if you hit an older person?  Scared someone?  Drove them into the street?  What about children or someone in a wheelchair?  Would that be just clean fun?”   Fitz shrugged his shoulders and cringed at his mother’s deep sigh.  “And what about Skye?  What if she fell, Fitz? What if you fell?  Do you know what kind of danger you put yourself in?”

 

Fitz took a shaky breath and brushed away the tear that rolled over his cheek.  “I’m sorry I got you all wet.” He whispered.

 

“I’m sorry, too Fitz.” 

 

One firm smack surprised the boy more than it stung.  He drew a quick breath, swallowed hard and nodded toward his mother.  He quickly swiped at the tears that threatened to fall and sniffed once as his mother helped him out of his wet drawers, wrapped him in two towels then gently gathered him on to her lap.  She rubbed the water from his curls and pulled him to her chest placing a kiss on his forehead.

 

“You are my very, very brilliant little boy, Fitz and I love you so much more than you’ll ever understand.”  Melinda let out a long cleansing breath and rested her chin on top of his head.   She felt him let out a breath of his own.  “I know you thought it was all in fun, but I think you are smarter than that.”

 

Fitz allowed himself to be snuggled and played with the large button on Melinda’s still damp blouse.  “It was just a prank.” He sniffed, refusing to let himself cry even though he really wanted to.  No one ever held him like this.  Sometimes when his maw was so sick she could barely sit up, he would sit and hold her head in his lap.  He’d pet her hair and kiss her warm forehead and pretend that she did the same for him, but it was just pretend.  He knew she loved him, but she just never had the strength to do much cuddling.  That’s what he told himself and that’s what he believed.  Besides he needed to be tough, be a man, take care of his maw because no one else would do it.

 

But here, with Melinda – his American mostly Asian mom – it was different.  Here he just had to be a boy…a little boy…a little boy that made bad choices and did dopey things and got his bum smacked for doing them.  Here his mom held him and kissed him and told him he was smart and good and she loved him even when he did dopey things, even when she cuffed him.  Melinda was wrong.  He did understand that she loved him but she was the one who would never understand how much he loved her back.

 

“Wǒ fēicháng ài nǐ, mama.” Fitz breathed into Melinda’s neck so softly she wasn’t sure she heard, but smiled and hugged him tighter for it.

 

Melinda smiled and kissed the top of his head as she patted his bottom gently.  “You need to think before you act, bǎobèi nánhái.  I know you how much you love a good prank.  Nǐ hěn xiàng nǐ de fùqīn.  This was a dangerous stunt, bǎobèi.”  She kissed him again.  It was true, this little boy was so much like Phil she wondered if it was possible for DNA to rub off and be absorbed into their children.

 

Fitz sniffled and wiped his nose with the towel that was draped over his shoulders.  “I’m sorry, mama.”  He only called her that in private, when no one else heard.  He snuggled into her embrace.  “Please don’t smack, Skye.  It wasn’t her idea.  You can give me her smack.  She’s just a wee girl, mama.”

 

Melinda squeezed him tighter.  He was Skye’s protector, always.  She knew that.  Sometimes the closeness between the two surprised her.  All of the children were close but these two shared something special.  Jemma and Trip had a chance to know their parents to know their mother’s love, even if it were for a short time.  Fitz’s mother was sick most of his life.  She loved him dearly, but he took care of her more than she did him and Skye had never known a mother’s love until Melinda wrapped her in it.  Perhaps that was the bond they shared, the thing that brought them so close.

 

“You and I will _talk_ to Skye,” she explained to him.  “We will both tell her why she shouldn’t do something like this ever again.  You will tell her how dangerous it is and how much trouble someone can get into for doing something without thinking.”  He nodded into her chest.

 

“You mean being a dunderhead…” Fitz sighed into her embrace.

 

For a moment they sat in silence.  Fitz barely noticed when Jemma opened the door and took all of his wet garments.  Melinda nodded giving her permission to turn on the dryer.  She waited for the little girl to leave before setting the boy on his feet. 

 

“Okay, little man, you are going out to sit with Trip and Skye while I get this mess cleaned up and Jemma gets your clothes dried.”  She pulled the towel she had wrapped around his waist a little snugger and tucked it in deeper.

 

Fitz nodded and walked into the hall then turned back.  “Are you going to tell Da?”

 

Melinda pursed her lips and shook her head.  “We’ll both talk to him.”  He took a deep breath and nodded before walking away.

 

 

 

By the time Phil made it back, the mess was cleaned and everything was dry including two very contrite children.  The family climbed into their vehicle and everyone cheered when he announced they were stopping at their favorite pizzeria for supper.

 

Once in the parking lot Trip unhooked a sleepy Skye from her seat and carried her as he hurried to catch up to the ‘twins’ partly because she refused to walk on the gravel covered parking lot in her new pink and white sneakers.  Phil and Melinda lagged behind.  He pulled her hand into his.

 

“Remember when we used to come here and sit at that table for two way in the back?”  He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

 

Melinda laughed.  “Those were the days,” she jested as she shoulder bumped him.  They watched their crew bound into the establishment and search for a table for six.

 

“By the way,” Phil started as he fished his hand into his jacket pocket.  “Any idea where this came from,” he waggled a purple balloon piece in front of her, their business name just visible on the scrap.  “Found it on the sidewalk in front of the building.”   He wrinkled his brow in confusion.

 

Melinda reached up and snagged it from his fingers, stashing it in her own pocket.  “Ask Fitz,” she suggested then thought again.  “But ask him tomorrow, let’s just enjoy tonight.”  She pulled herself up on his arm and kissed his cheek then pulled him to quicken his step before that crew they could see through the window ordered one of everything on the menu.


End file.
